


Sea Shanties

by DiamondScribe (DiamondSuits)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Established Relationship, M/M, Sea-longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondSuits/pseuds/DiamondScribe
Summary: There's the faint sound of music about the marketplace.





	Sea Shanties

"Our anchor we'll weigh and our sails we shall set, goodbye fare you well, goodbye fare you well." 

There's the faint sound of music about the marketplace. None so unusual - beggars will try all sorts of tactics to earn a spot of coin, especially in depraved little corners of the world like these. Still, there's something about the thrumming of strings and a lilting voice that draws a bit of attention. A few coins here, a fruit or two there, allowances accepted with a tilt of a head and certain sort of smile. The guitar is worn with age, yet no less sweet, fingers plucking with the grace of one skilled in their craft as the man sings something that rings familiar to him. Something longing, something rich, with a measure of hope that it meets the right ears.

"Our friends we are leaving, we leave with regret, hurrah, me boys, we're homeward bound."

There's a little less attention now that the sun begins its steady descent into the water, the ocean stained with the richest reds and oranges that one has ever seen. The man had been enchanted by it once, and the spell had never quite faded, the sea ensnaring his heart like many before him. His eyes turn to the waves for the briefest of moments, before dropping back down to his dirty fingernails. 

"We're homeward bound, oh joyful sound, come ready the capstan and then quick around."

The song is sweet, yet does not quite drown out the sound of boots against the well worn stones of the seaside market. He does not need to look up to know to whom those boots belong. 

"We're homeward bound, we have you know, and over the water to England must go."

The sound of footsteps grow closer. He does not shift from his casual slump, even as his heart stutters from the excitement. The air may be thick with smoke and rum and the sweat drying from bodies in the late afternoon cool, but he thinks he can catch the scent of orange blossoms above them all.

"So goodbye to Sally and goodbye to Sue, and you married ladies, goodbye to you." 

Under the rim of his hat, there's a sliver of vision, suddenly filled with dark, shiny leather. Slightly dusty, but he knows that they will be polished to a mirror shine soon enough. A smile curls his lips. 

"The topsails are loosed and the anchors a-weigh, she heels to the breeze as it gathers her way." 

He could go on - there are a million different ways he could continue, each varying with his mood. But the boots shift before him, so he lets the last few notes trail into nothingness, strings thrumming against his fingers until they too still. There's the briefest moment of silence. He can feel eyes on his skin, tracking out the state of his clothing (stained and stiff with salt), his hair (longer since before, tied in a loose knot at the back of his neck), and the state of his body (just a little more worse for wear). 

"...You would think you'd come up with a new song by now. Don't you tire of playing the same terrible thing?" 

The voice tries at being annoyed, but Howie knows the sound of fondness far too well. When he tilts his head up to smile properly, he can see it lingering in Jack's last eye, a flash of warmth the man would trek through hell to deny. He looks good, too - better than he usually does, outside of his uniform, his short black hair unhindered by that powdered wig. Howie's chest grows tight with sudden longing.  

"But if I play something else, how will you find me?" 

His eyes dip to make their own assessment. Just as clean and crisp as ever, perhaps with the hint of a bandage here or there. Worrying, but nothing so terrible. 

"I'll follow the smell. When was the last time you took a bath?" 

Jack's nose wrinkles. Howie smiles anew. 

"When was the last time I saw you?" 

An indignant huff is returned with a laugh, and when a hand is offered to him, Howie takes it as if he's been waiting far too long to do so (he had). 

"Then I'll have you know nothing will happen until you're  _clean_." 

"Hardly seems to have a point, when I'll just get dirty again." 

"Hardly a point to see you, if you insist on smelling like swine." 

"A very handsome swine, excuse you." 

It goes on like that for quite some time, even after the sweat and the grime is washed from his body, only to ruin himself anew. These are the times they long for - though they'll part with the rising sun, for now, Howie savors it like a man starved. 

A brush of lips against the brand on his arm, an apology hidden there. 

Hands on his hips, on his wrists, mapping his body as if it is territory unknown.

Murmurs in his ear, sweet croonings in Italian, moans and cries sweeter than song. 

In the early light of dawn, Howie traces an old scar across olive skin, and wonders if it would be worth it to play more often. 

**Author's Note:**

> Usually these guys are mobsters, but I have fun shoving them into different stuff. Might put more original work on here because like, who cares, yknow? 
> 
> Song is cobbled together from different versions of the shanty "Homeward Bound". Apparently its also in Assassin's Creed, so hey, that's cool.


End file.
